Feet First Into Hell
by RNG 117
Summary: ODST squad Delta 3 is deployed on a secret mission to prevent the Covenant from finding Earth. Unfortunately, something goes wrong and the squad ends up in the Commonwealth during a war between the BoS and the Institute. Will they be able to return to the UNSC? Rated M for language
1. A Day with the Admiral

**Hey guys, I'm back. Just like I promised, here is the first chapter to my new story. The original challenge proposition was made by Twisted Fate Mk.2 so go check out his stuff. Anyways enjoy.**

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Ch.1: A Day with the Admiral

 _FEBRUARY_ _9_ _TH_ _, 2547. 1000 HOURS (STANDARD UNSC MILITARY CALENDAR)_

 _UNSC CHARON CLASS LIGHT FRIGATE TWISTED FATE_

 _IN HIGH ORBIT AROUND UNSC FORTRESS WORLD: REACH_

 _CAPTAIN_ _DAVID RECKER_

Captain David Recker did not like this one bit.

He was standing aboard his ship, the UNSC Twisted Fate. He waited anxiously for a transmission form UNSC High Command. He was never told about what it was about or who exactly will contact him, but it seemed important enough.

' _Important enough to ruin my day of R &R with a pot of coffee'_ Recker thought to himself angrily.

He scanned the bridge as the crew ran through the bland routines of maintenance and scanning for hostiles. He noticed that the crew was starting to become bored of the simple routine. However, being one of the fastest ships in the UNSC fleet, the crew of the Twisted Fate had to be ready at a moments notice. Many of the supplies on the ship have started to run dry, from cleaning supplies to toilet paper to food. David couldn't even begin to imagine how much longer he could take the filthy look and stench of his ship.

He wished that something could be done. However, the platform that housed Reach's Orbital Elevator has been busy for the past week and a half; taking in colonist refugees from glassed worlds was a large order to process. Even the MAC Platforms weren't able to help them in this regard either, as they had more important jobs to do rather than hand over rudimentary supplies such as cleaning chemicals and food over to a single Marine Frigate.

However, it wasn't just the ship's interior that needed cleaning, the exterior of the ship needed refit. Both sides of the frigate had burn marks from fore to aft. Most of the exterior armor was either dented to hell or not even on the ship anymore. The MAC gun was also damaged beyond use. Recker wasn't even sure if half the turrets worked on the ship let alone have ammo for them. Similar to the requests for more supplies, UNSC dry-docks couldn't even acknowledge Recker's requests for repairs to his ship as they either had to keep highly powerful ships, such as heavy frigates and cruisers, combat-ready or were working on some type of new ship that he didn't even know about.

A sudden bleeping noise quickly interrupted his thoughts. He turned to the view screen that stood in front of him. The forward view screen came to life with the words _INCOMING TRANSMISSION_ flashing bright red. Recker reluctantly let the transmission through, letting out a sigh as he pressed the appropriate keys on the command console.

A young, tan face appeared on the screen. He looked to be somewhere in his mid 30s. He had a. what looked to be, composed, calm face. A few specks of beard hair could be seen along his cheekbones and chin.

"Who am I speaking to?" Captain Recker began.

"Hello Captain, I am Lieutenant Mathew Jones of Bravo-6." The man replied.

' _Bravo-6? This must be some important shit then'_ The captain thought to himself.

"What can I do for you, Lieutenant?" Recker asked without missing a beat.

"I have orders to bring you in for your next assignment Captain Recker." Lieutenant Jones replied with no joy in his voice what so ever.

"Sounds like you had a bad day Lieutenant." David joked.

"I don't even want to talk about it." Jones said.

"So, when do I have to go in?" David asked.

"You are to report to Earth immediately. You will dock with Cairo Station and will be transported to Bravo-6 via shuttle."

"Ok, but there is one thing that I need in return." the Captain replied sternly.

"And what might that be?"

"I want my ship refitted and restocked." The Captain answered quickly.

"Very well, that can be arranged."

"Good. I will set course for Earth immediately." Recker responded with delight.

"Affirmative. Be as quick as possible. Don't want to keep us waiting now do we?" The Lieutenant smirked.

"Agreed." The Captain said as the transmission ended.

"Clyde!" The Captain commanded.

A small orange figure came to life on the side of the view screen. The figure looked similarly to a 21st century mathematics professor, complete with a long trench coat and rounded glasses. He even had little to no hair on his head.

"What can I do for you captain?" the AI asked.

"Set a course for Earth immediately. Tell Reach that we're leaving and prepare the crew for Slipspace jump." The captain commanded.

"Sir, wouldn't activating a slipspace course for Earth violate the Cole Protocol? " The AI questioned.

"Although I do understand your concern Clyde, that section of the Cole Protocol only applies to UNSC Ships outside of Human-controlled space that are trying to flee from the Covenant." The Captain responded.

"Understood." The AI said after a moment of thought." Setting course for Earth. Approximate ETA: 14 hours."

"Alright, I'm getting some shut eye. Wake me up once we get to the _Cairo._ " the Captain said as he left the bridge.

* * *

 _FEBRUARY_ _10_ _TH_ _, 2547. 1200 HOURS (STANDARD UNSC CALENDAR)_

 _ONI FACILITY: BRAVO-6_

 _SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA_

 _CAPTAIN DAVID RECKER_

Captain David Recker walked down a hallway of white. He never really understood why ONI officials always had their buildings' main color be white. Any other color could have been nice.

' _How about blending in some blue, green, or hell even orange would look better than this white crap you call practical.'_ David raged in his mind.

Ahead of him stood a small lobby with the first change of color scheme ever since Recker walked trough the main lobby. A small woman was sitting at the reception desk in business attire. The Captain quickly scurried over to the desk.

"Hello." he started," I'm Captain David Recker. I have a meeting with ONI officials."

"One moment please." the woman said with a thoughtful tone as she searched the computer database for any record of the Captain's meeting. The Captain also picked up an Irish accent in the receptionist's voice. He always liked the sound of an Irish accent.

"Ah yes." she began again, "Your meeting will be in conference room B7, which is down the hall on your left."

"Thank you." David replied before hurrying down the hallway.

It took him no time at all to find the room before opening it, only to freeze in the doorway. It wasn't the look of the conference room that shocked him, though he though that it was real nice, it was the fact that the head of ONI, Admiral Parangosky, was sitting in the same conference room. Captain Recker had heard many things about this woman, such as the one that she could kill anyone with only a cold stare. He shuddered at the thought of it, but shrugged it away as he edged his way into the conference room.

"Am I in the wrong room?" the Captain asked with a scared look in his eyes.

"No, please sit down Captain." Parangosky answered with no character in her voice.

Recker did as he was told and sat in one of the many chairs that lined the conference table.

"So, what's this new 'assignment' that you want me to go on?" The Captain asked, in hopes of starting a conversation that wouldn't get him imprisoned.

"Let me show you." The Admiral replied as she pressed a button on the conference table.

The surface of the table suddenly darkened as the lights in the conference room dimmed to pure black. David could hear the small click of the door locking behind him as a small, transparent monitor rose in front of David. The screen flickered to life with a single Covenant CAR-class frigate hovering over a planet.

"As you can see," the Admiral started, "there is a single CAR-class Frigate hovering over the surface of Aleria, a lawless planet abandoned by the UNSC."

"So, what does this have to do with me and my ship?" David asked.

"I'm getting to that." The Admiral replied sternly. "We have reason to believe that the people of Aleria might try to hand over vital UNSC information over to the Covenant. This can not occur. If the Covenant find the location of Reach, or even Earth for that matter, humanity will be extinguished."

The Captain sat still in his chair and thought in horror what would happen if something like this would occur. He could imagine Assault Carriers and Cruisers in the Australian sky, glassing everything that humanity built over the centuries. He couldn't even begin to think about the Orbital Defense Grid and the UNSC Home Fleet being trashed by the Covenant's superior firepower.

"Alright, what's my mission then?" The Captain quietly asked.

The room suddenly brightened again and the monitor slowly descended back into the table.

"Your mission," the Admiral said turning to him, "will be to take a squad of ODSTs and head to Aleria. They are to drop into the frigate and purge any information the Covenant might have retrieved on the UNSC, Earth, or Humanity. You are to then pick them up and return to UNSC-controlled space, while following the Cole Protocol of course."

The Captain thought about this too, wondering if he and his crew will even be able to return to the UNSC. Then, a concern popped into his head.

"What about the reports of ships vanishing into nothing? Are those rumors true?"

"We have had a few incidents of such events occurring, but not on a wide scale." the Admiral replied with a smile on her face that simply gave the Captain chills down his spine.

"When do I depart?" the Captain asked with a sigh.

"The ODSTs will arrive sometime within the next few weeks. As for departure, I believe that your frigate will be complete with refit by the end of the month. I have made sure that your request was expedited to fit the timeframe. So, expect to leave around that time." the Admiral replied as she stood up and walked out of the room.

"You are free to go, Captain." she added.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading the first chapter.**

 **RNG OUT!**


	2. The ODSTs

_**Ch.2 The ODSTs**_

FEBRUARY 28th 2547 1600 HOURS (STANDARD UNSC CALENDAR)  
HIGH ORBIT ABOVE EARTH  
UNSC ORBITAL DEFENSE PLATFORM: CAIRO  
Gunnery Sergeant Jackson Douglas

Jackson looked over at his squad mates as they walked around Cairo Station. The squad have been walking around for the past hour and a half looking for the terminal to the _Twisted Fate_. None of the squad have ever been on an orbital MAC platform facility before, and they were paying for it as their ODST battledress uniforms hung on their bodies. They carried personal M6C SOCOM pistols in their holsters for personal defense. However, they were prohibited from carrying any other weapons onto the _Cairo_. Jackson still could feel the groves of his BR55 Battle Rifle in his hands.

"We're lost aren't we." said Tasha, the squad's CQB specialist.

"Nah," said Monty, the hacker of the trio, "Just a bit turned around, that's all."

Jackson noticed a slight blush on Monty's face. His albino white skin clearly gave it away.

"Just admit it." Tasha snapped back, her long, jet black hair swaying as she walked, "You forgot where we were supposed to go, didn't you?"

"NO!" Monty objected while stopping in his tracks.

"How about we just ask that marine over there?" Jack said simply.

The two abruptly stopped their argument to look at him and the marine that Jackson mentioned. Not 200 feet away stood an UNSC Marine clad in olive green armor and clothing. He held a simple M7 Sub-Machine gun, since a MA5 Assault Rifle would be less effective in an area filled with crates and the like. Jackson immediately approached the marine without waiting for the squad to answer his rhetorical question.

"Hey," he began, "Can you tell us how to get to the _Twisted Fate?"._

The marine focused in on Jackson and his squad as he responded with a heavy Australian accent.

"Oi! You're that ODST group that Captain Recker requested aren't ya? I was just 'bout to go find you anyways. The ship's this way."

Jackson watched as the marine's finger pointed down the hallway toward a small frigate.

"Why such a small ship?" Jackson wondered aloud.

"Dunno," the marine responded, "Its been sittin' around here for the past month getting a refit. Maybe they added some metal coffins for your squad, eh?"

The marine began to burst into laughter. Jackson's squad didn't laugh at the marine's crack at a joke. The ODSTs knew the death rates of an atmospheric drop: 28% never made it out of the pod. It was more of a sore subject to talk about such a thing next to an ODST.

"What's your name marine?" Jackson asked, hoping to turn the conversation to a different topic.

"The name's Dubbo. Chips Dubbo." said the marine.

"Well, I guess we'll see you on the ship then." Jackson said as the squad began to walk down the corridor.

"Yea, whatever." Dubbo replied as he went back to his post.

"I'm beginning to like these people already." Jackson muttered.

"Come on 'Jackie', I bet you will get to know your little green friend more soon enough." Tasha joked.

Jackson blushed. He didn't prefer to be called 'Jackie' by his squad mates. 'Jackie' was a childhood name that many girls used to use to tease him in class. He wasn't sure how Tasha knew about it, but it was embarrassing that she did.

"I bet so." Jackson replied.

* * *

 _15 MINUTES LATER  
_ _ABOARD THE UNSC CHARON CLASS FRIGATE: TWISTED FATE  
_ _COMMAND BRIDGE  
_ _Gunnery Sergeant Jackson Douglas_

Jackson and his squad walked steadily into the command bridge of the _Twisted Fate_. Many crew members flew past them with excitement in their face as they rushed toward freshly-cleaned chairs and keypads.

"Delta-3, over here!" a voice commanded.

Jackson gazed over to the center of the room. A man in, what he assumed to be, his mid-30s was waving his squad over. A look at his uniform told Jackson that he must have been the Captain that Chips mentioned.

"You must be Captain Recker." Tasha began without warning as he strode over to the man.

"Yes, I am. Welcome to the Twisted Fate; one of the fastest ships in the UNSC!" The Captain boasted proudly, "I haven't seen the crew this happy in a long time."

"Why is that sir?" Monty asked.

"Because this was the first time that the ship has been cleaned and refitted ever since the ship was first deployed. We were never on the UNSC's top priority. We were more of the first response to threats while the heavier ships came in behind us."

The squad remained silent as they imagined the bridge covered in dust. Monty shuddered at the thought of unclean equipment. Monty wasn't real keen on dirty equipment, as he came from a scientific background; the one that stays in a lab for 24/7. To an ordinary person, staying in a lab for that long felt more like 48/16.

However, coming from an desert-operations unit, Jackson didn't really mind the dust. It kinda 'suited him' as he put it. Tasha came from an urban-ops unit, so she was used to the filth of outer colony city streets.

"Anyways," the Captain continued, "How about we head to the meeting room to discuss the mission."

"Sure." Monty said a little too quickly.

The squad followed the Captain out of the bridge and into a main corridor. Marines and other crewmen walked up and down the corridor, scurrying past the Captain and Delta-3 as they moved along. The Captain led them past many doors, rooms, and even an armory.

' _Gotta check that out later.'_ Jackson noted.

After a few minutes of walking around with the Captain, the squad finally ended up in the meeting room. A large mahogany table stood as the centerpiece of the room. A few black rolling chairs were spaced around the table. There was even an AI holotank carved in the center of the table.

' _This is a nice room for a marine frigate'_ Jackson thought as he examined the room.

"Please take a seat." the Captain said as he gestured with his hand toward the chairs.

Without another word, the squad took seats around the table while the Captain decided to stand.

"Clyde, begin the briefing." Captain Recker commanded.

The AI blinked into existence above the holotank in the center of the mahogany table. His glasses sat heavily on the edge of his nose.

"Everyone here?" Clyde questioned as he gazed at the squad members seated around the table.

"If I knew this was going to be math class, I should've stopped and grabbed my book out of my locker." Tasha said sarcastically.

Nobody acknowledged her sarcastic remark as the room's lights dimmed and a holographic image projected itself above the table. Clyde stood next to the image with a ruler stick in his hand.

"This," he began, pointing his ruler at one part of the picture, "is a Covenant CAR-class frigate. A transmission that was intercepted by one of ONI's prowlers revealed the ship to be named the _Penance of Betrayal._ This ship has been hanging out near the planet of Aleria." Clyde pointed his ruler at another part of the screen. The planet looked dull in the image, but that wasn't important.

"What happened to the planet? Why haven't the Covenant glassed it with a super-carrier by now?" Monty asked out of curiosity.

"Well," Clyde began, "The planet was abandoned by the UNSC around the start of the Human-Covenant War. The planet is pretty much a "Third-World planet, as residents can't afford modern spacecraft. The planet has since became a lawless wasteland; ran pretty much by low-level governments called "Courier Gangs". Anyways, ONI has reason to believe that the citizens of this backwater planet might hand over vital intel to the Covenant. We can't allow the squid-heads to have this kind of information on our forces."

"So, where do we come in?" Jackson asked.

The room brightened up again, most of the holographic image went away, leaving Clyde floating above the center of the table.

"Well, you and your squad will hard-drop near the frigate's gravity lift. From there, you will enter the ship and purge any data that the Covenant has on the UNSC. If the transaction never happened yet, however, quickly exit the ship and get to a minimum safe distance to allow the _Twisted Fate_ to swoop in and destroy the frigate before it gets a chance to relay the information back to their leadership. Does anyone have any questions?"

"I do!" Monty announced quickly, "Why don't ONI just send in a Spartan team to accomplish the mission?"

' _Oh here we go again.'_ Jackson thought while adding an audible "sigh".

"Because the Spartans suck!" Tasha immediately snapped, her head turning to face Monty.

"No they don't!" Monty objected, "They are, like the saviors of humanity. They could do this mission better than we can and in half the time!"

This wasn't the first time that Monty and Tasha had this argument. Over the past several months, the two of them would argue from sunrise to sundown about whether the Spartans were better than the ODSTs. Some of these arguments have almost ended with gunfire at times. While Monty believed that the Spartans were the greatest things in the universe, Tasha wished that they never existed. Jackson always had to break up these arguments before they became deadly. Noting back to the armory they passed before, one of them could easily grab a weapon and accidentally pull the trigger.

Jackson wasn't sure about the Spartans. While he did agree with the majority of Marines on the point that the Spartans were the top dogs when it comes to combat capability, they did make a bad reputation for the ODSTs.

"Alright, break it up guys." Jackson said soothingly. The two stopped mid-argument and stared daggers at Jackson.

"While, yes, Spartans would be able to do this mission more efficiently than us ODSTs, we need them for the front lines. This is just a backwater planet that isn't even important to the UNSC anymore. We can handle this without Spartan assistance."

Monty and Tasha still stared at him, although their mouths were slightly ajar from the statement. Under normal circumstances, Jackson would throw one off of another before it got to violent and told them to get back to doing whatever it was that they were doing before. He never gave a speech about it immediately afterwards.

"Now, how about we end this briefing and go get something to eat?" Jackson continued before anyone could object.

"If anyone else doesn't have anymore questions," Captain Recker began after Jackson defused the argument between his squad mates, "head to your bunks and prepare for a slipspace jump. They should be located on E-deck, sector-17, starboard side. Dismissed."

Everyone left the room in silence except the Captain.

* * *

 **Thank you guys for waiting for the second chapter.**

 **RNG OUT!**


	3. Danger Close

_**Ch.3 Danger Close**_

MARCH 2ND, 2547. 0600 HOURS (STANDARD UNSC CALENDAR)

UNSC TWISTED FATE (NEAR ALERIA)

COMMAND BRIDGE

Captain David Recker

"Exiting slip-space jump in 3..2...1... Now." Clyde mentioned as Captain Recker pondered at the view screen in front of him.

The sudden stop in momentum almost knocked the Captain off of his feet, luckily for him, he was strapped into the command seat. Although, that didn't stop him from feeling the force of the deceleration.

"This is Aleria?" the Captain questioned, not letting his curiosity overtake him.

"Yes." The AI replied. "We should achieve orbit in about an hour or so. I would suggest having the ODSTs report to their pods at once. Also, I told Sergeant Devereaux to report to the bridge to discuss the plan with the Pelicans."

"I'm still not sure about that part of the plan, Clyde. You think that she could pull that off?"

"I'm fairly sure. My calculations state that she will have a 77% chance of success. She is a trained pilot, after all."

As Clyde finished that statement, the doors to the command bridge slid open to reveal the pilot in question. Recker did a quick overview of her report before leaving Earth, which stated that she was in fact a trained ODST pilot, while having served as an ODST after she first enlisted with the marines.

Her black hair swayed back and forth as she approached the Captain and Clyde, her Chinese-Canadian features becoming more apparent as she came closer.

"Sergeant Devereaux, thank you for coming on such short notice." The Captain began. "Clyde and I just need to go over the plan before we get too close to Aleria."

"Sure Captain." She replied with much joy. "I'm ready to do whatever it is that we're gonna do."

"Alright, I need your full cooperation for this mission. Clyde and I were discussing if we can pull off the 'Archangel' maneuver for insertion. However, I don't think we can pull it off with only one human pilot." Captain Recker replied grimly.

Lian took a small step back in surprise. The Archangel maneuver hasn't been tested much by the UNSC Air Force. In fact, from the tests that have been performed, the success rate isn't all that great. The maneuver would require Pelican pilots to cut the engines after leaving a UNSC ship in orbit. After falling into atmosphere, it would require assistance from a 'Smart' AI to fire the thrusters at the last second, to prevent the Pelicans from slamming into the ground at high g-forces. This maneuver is usually done in groups of three.

"I thought we were using orbital insertion for this op, sir." Lian said, wondering what called for the sudden change.

"We are." the Captain simply stated. "But, we're mixing things up a bit. We're gonna place ammo crates in the Pelicans along with marines. I know that it may sound risky that we're placing crates in a position that leaves the marines vulnerable to getting squished by either the crates or the by the high g-forces. However, it seems to be the only way to get additional boots on the ground without letting the Covenant or the Alerians know about it. The marine snipers can provide covering fire to allow the ODSTs to access the ship. The ammo on the Pelicans would allow us to stay longer on the planet if the ODSTs are taking too long. Do you think you can pull off the maneuver in your Pelican?"

She leaned from foot to foot, comparing the pros and cons between a normal insertion and the 'Archangel'.

Finally, after letting out a heavy sigh, "I can pull it off, Captain. Just one question: Who is piloting the other two Pelicans?"

"Simple." Clyde added. "I will pilot the other two. It won't put too much restraint on my programming. Many other AI, with worse programming might I add, have done more extreme stuff than piloting two loaded Pelicans toward a planet at terminal velocity and have it survive."

"Go ahead and head to your Pelican, Sergeant." Recker commanded. "We'll be engaging the enemy soon."

"Alright. Say, where is that group of ODSTs anyway?" Lian questioned the Captain as she strode out.

* * *

UNSC Twisted Fate

Armory

Cpl Tasha Bordeaux

"Hey! Watch where you aim that!" Tasha exclaimed at Monty, who had his M6C SOCOM pistol aimed in her general direction.

"Do I need to get the zip-ties again?" Jackson taunted from another corner of the armory.

"Ugh! What is it with you and zip-ties? Those things only tie up small objects." Tasha complained. "I'm surprised you were able to restrain me and Monty with those things."

"Well Tasha, I got my magic." Jackson joked with a grin on his face.

Tasha slightly grinned at the comment as she picked up a pair of dual M7 SMGs.

Footsteps clanked against the titanium deck as a woman of Asian descent strutted into the room as if she was the queen of the ship.

"Hey, you Delta-3?" She began.

"Yea." Jackson replied as he brought back the charging handle of a BR55 Battle Rifle.

"I'm Lian Devereaux, ODST pilot. I came down here to tell you that we're using the 'Archangel' drop for this op."

"God dammit! I hate that stupid drop." Monty screamed from the corner of the armory.

"What do you know? You probably weren't even there when they tested the maneuver." Tasha shot back.

"I was there when they tested the maneuver, who do you think identified the bodies!" Monty yelled with much excitement.

"Gross." Tasha retorted.

"Anyways," Lian continued, "We're heading to the Pelicans now, so get to it."

She then strutted out of the armory as quick as she came in.

"Man, she sounds like a handful." Tasha commented quietly as she left.

"Let's get going now." Jackson commanded. "Don't wanna keep the Captain waiting. Besides, waiting for too long would probably make that A.I. shit its pants, or the equivalent of it anyway."

* * *

15 minutes later

UNSC Charon-Class Frigate: Twisted Fate

ODST Drop Bay

"Alright, I'm strapped in!" Tasha yelled over her comms.

"I bet you are." Monty said quietly, momentarily forgetting that he left his mike on.

"I. Will. Kill. You. Montana Sanford." Tasha dared with much power behind it.

"Lock it down, both of you." Jackson deadpanned.

Tasha glanced to the weapons sitting happily in their holsters. A pair of M7S silent sub-machine guns sat in one holster while a M90 shotgun laid in the other.

"Ten seconds until drop." Clyde said over the team's comms.

"Alright, let's do this!" Devereaux yelled with much excitement.

"3"

"2"

"1"

Tasha immediately felt her feet kicking her brain as the pod shot out of the frigate faster than a rocket. The scenery of Aleria's upper atmosphere flooded the windows of the pod, along with the fires of terminal velocity. Glancing toward the ground, Tasha seen the Covenant frigate, its sleek purple surface glistening in the sunlight.

"Target in sight Gunny." Tasha reported.

"Roger that, Tash." Jackson acknowledged.

A bright flash appeared near the ship's bow.

"Radiation flare!" Monty panicked. "Is it trying to jump into slip-space?"

"Hopefully they just set off a nuke. These people aren't from an UNSC-controlled planet. I couldn't care less." Tasha muttered.

"Slip-space jump initiated!" Monty exclaimed. "Tell the _Fate_!"

"Can't the flare disabled comms. Brace yourselves!" Jackson commanded.

The resulting blast of the in-atmosphere jump hit the pod harder than a nuke. The pod began to wildly spin out of control; the systems were fired from the Covenant ship. The g-forces were too strong for Tasha to take. She couldn't think. The spinning made her dizzy.

She could only see black.

* * *

Captain David Recker

UNSC Charon-Class Frigate: _Twisted Fate_

Command Bridge

"Clyde, patch me into Delta-3's comm system." Recker commanded.

"Affirmative, sir." Clyde muttered.

A moment passed before another word passed through the air of the bridge.

"Target in sight, Gunny." a female voice said.

' _That must be Tasha.' Recker thought._

"Roger that, Tash." a male voice replied.

' _And there's Jackson' Recker thought once more._

A few more minutes passed. Normally, this would agitate any Navy Captain, but not to Recker. With all of the noise that had inhabited the ship for the past few days, he welcomed the near silence. However, something told him that this wouldn't last long.

"Radiation flare!" Clyde, and what Recker assumed was Monty, exclaimed at the same time.

Now Recker began to panic a bit. The Covies never used a tactic like this before. However, according to a few UNSC scientists and Monty's constant banter, it was entirely possible for Covenant ships to warp into slip-space inside a planets; a ability that UNSC ships couldn't accomplished with their Shaw-Fujikawa slip-space drives. But even those were primitive in design and technological power to the Covenant's equivalent.

"Can you warn Delta-3, Clyde?" Recker quickly questioned the A.I.

"No sir, the radiation must have fired the comms equipment on the pods and their suits." Clyde replied somberly.

"Damn." The Captain replied quietly. "Quickly, get me a line to Bravo-6. I don't care what protocols you have to break to give me a one on one with Admiral Parangosky! Get! Her! NOW!" His tone rising with each word.

The A.I. looked shocked at the Captain's quick rise in temper. It wasn't expected for an experienced Navy Captain to have a such a reaction. The Captain didn't care. He understood the consequences of letting the _Penance of Betrayal_ escape.

And he didn't like it one bit.

* * *

 **Sorry guys about waiting so long for publishing this chapter. I honestly haven't been feeling too well (being sick doesn't exactly improve your writing moral). I have also been playing the new KSP update. I don't want this to be long-winded but….**

 **Anyway, thanks for reading this chapter. Please leave a review. I think that my quality went down due to my absence but I promise to improve next time.**

 **RNG OUT!**


	4. Into Each Night, Some Rain Must Fall

_**Ch.4 Into each night, some rain must fall**_

Piper  
Commonwealth, outside of Sanctuary Hills  
Sunrise

"I can't believe that she would do that to us." Piper began softly.

"What do you mean, Piper?" Preston Garvey, the impromptu General of the Commonwealth Minutemen, asked.

"I mean why did Blue have to go and join the Institute on us? Why couldn't she see reason?" Piper replied, progressively becoming more agitated as she went.

"Piper, you should probably calm down for a bit, you've been through a lot lately." Preston soothed.

He was right about that. Since Nisha (a.k.a. Blue by Piper), the Sole Survivor of Vault 111, went off to the Institute to find her son, things went pear-shaped for all of the above-ground factions. Synths became commonplace and the Minutemen became more active, responding to synth attacks and whatnot. However, the final straw broke when Nisha, the previous General of the Minutemen, attacked two minutemen soldiers to save an Institute scientist. Ever since, Preston took her place and vowed to destroy the Institute one way or another, and to personally execute Nisha for the crimes she committed.

However, they didn't have the firepower to take the Institute down. Sure, they had the Castle that was reclaimed whenever Nisha still had a brain, and they had artillery support at many locations around the Commonwealth, but that won't exactly help if the Institute was underground. They had no way to take them down on their own, they needed assistance.

This answer came just a week ago, when the Institute attacked the Old North Church, hell-bent on taking down the Railroad, a secret organization that helps synths escape the Institute's power. Led by Nisha herself, the Institute force slammed into the church guns blazing. Piper was present at the time, taking an interview from Desdemona, the leader of the Railroad. When they came, Piper, along with Deacon, hid behind some wooden targets in a shooting range that had been set up. Both used stealth boys, personal cloaking devices, to hide from the Institute's force and to escape through the tunnel. When they emerged, Piper looked around to see Sturges, Preston, and Paladin Danse in a Brotherhood-owned Vertibird. Quickly hoping on, she quickly learned that the Minutemen and the Brotherhood decided to join forces under one banner for the time being.

Fast forward to today, nothing much happened. The Boston Airport became more fortified and even had its own artillery gun. In turn, the Castle became heavily guarded by Brotherhood Knights and Paladins.

Even Piper had to adjust to some new equipment. She paid Arturo, the gunsmith in Diamond City, a hefty sum of caps to modify her 10mm pistol into a better weapon. He came back with the pistol sporting a reflex sight, an advanced receiver, a ported barrel, a quick-eject mag, and a comfort grip. She even went to Vault 81, the only Vault in the Commonwealth that supported life from the start, and requested a Pip-Boy device. She gazed down on it now; it was roughly six-o-clock in the morning.

Gazing back up, Piper could see a figure standing in the distance, a four-legged creature.

"Dogmeat!" she cried instantly.

The creature dashed toward Preston and Piper at extreme speed, to reveal itself to be the German shepherd used to sniff out Kellogg, Dogmeat.

He whined as he approached, with Piper kneeling down and patting it's head on cue.

"So," Piper asked Preston as she stood up again, "where are we heading today?"

Preston thought silently for a minute before replying, "We could head to Diamond City and get some noodles. I need to talk to Arturo about some modifications to my laser musket."

"Sounds like a plan." Piper chirped.

Dogmeat began to bark as the conversation ended. He was gazing up at the still-brightening sky.

"Whatcha looking at boy?" Preston asked the dog.

Piper aligned her gaze with the dog's own. She could see six, yellow-orange glowing spots in the sky, each of them glowing brighter and brighter.

And one of them looked as if it was gunning straight for Piper!

"PRESTON! DUCK AND COVER!" Piper commanded as they both ran toward the nearby Red Rocket Gas Station.

The object shrieked past, only to land by the river that bordered Sanctuary Hills. The grounded rumbled as it collided with the ground. The duo and dog waited inside the gas station for what seemed like hours, hiding behind old suits of power armor and piles of junk.

"Is it over?" Piper whispered from a suit of T-45 power armor.

"Should be. First the Institute now falling meteors?" Preston commented from his hiding place.

The two emerge from the shelter to find a decently sized crater next to the road. A strange, grey-black pillar stood tall in the center, with Dogmeat barking at it madly.

"Let's go see what Dogmeat found." Preston said with a hint of excitement.

The two took off toward the crater with their weapons at the ready, Dogmeat still barking like a maniac.

"What is it boy?" Piper asked the dog companion.

The two approached the object slow enough to be passed by a snail, if they even existed in the wasteland. The object that stood before them looked like a pod of some sort, its cargo unknown. Preston decided to approach Dogmeat and reward him for his efforts while Piper checked out the mysterious object.

"Good sniffing, boy." Preston complimented.

"Preston…." Piper said grimly.

"What is it Pipes?" Preston asked, lowering his voice in the process.

He looked at what Piper was gazing at. The pod apparently had small windows on it, allowing them an inside view at its cargo…

…..an unconscious person.

"What do we do?!" Piper panicked.

"Don't worry; we didn't make an alliance with the Brotherhood for a reason." Preston reasoned, pulling a flare out of his coat at the same time. The flare had a small Brotherhood insignia printed on it.

"Go to the medic in Sanctuary Hills quickly and get as much medical supplies as possible; preferably stimpacks and bandages. It'll be a while before the vertibird gets here. While you're at it, hop on the radio transmitter and tell the Castle to get their medical facilities ready. We won't have time to screw around when we arrive." Preston commanded the Diamond City reporter.

Piper immediately got up and booked it up the crater and to the Sanctuary Hills bridge. She dodged left and right to avoid the debris from past battles of the bridge that haven't been cleaned up yet.

"MEDIC!" Piper shouted as she crossed into the rebuilt neighborhood.

"Did somebody call a medic?" A French voice sung from one of the houses.

Piper turned toward the owner of the sweet voice: Curie. She stood not five feet from Piper, wearing a refurbished lab coat, pockets overflowing with medical supplies.

"Great, just the person I need." Piper greeted with a hurry.

"What is wrong, Madame Piper?" Curie questioned.

Piper then hastily explained the situation that had rushed upon her and Preston.

"Oh. I can now see why you are in such a hurry." Curie replied slowly. "I will get the supplies and meet you and Mister Preston at the site, Madame."

And with that, Curie rushed back to where she came from to gather more supplies while Piper ran quickly possible to the radio transmitter.

* * *

BoS Lance-Pilot Alex Boone  
Airspace near Cambridge Police Station  
Just after sunrise

"How's it lookin' down there Danse?" Alex asked to his Paladin gunner.

"About as normal as it normally does, Boone." Danse reported plainly.

The two have flown for hours, only stopping for short naps and resupplying ammo and food.

"We should just head back to Cambridge, there's nothing out here, man." Alex complained.

"It's our duty to the Brotherhood to keep watch for any synth scum that try to attack innocent civilians, pilot. We're staying here." The Paladin replied coldly.

' _Jeez, don't have to be such an asshole dude.'_ The pilot thought madly. _'I remember, back in the Capital Wasteland, the Brotherhood weren't such conservative pricks like this lot.'_

It was true. The BoS chapter led by the late Sarah Lyons and her father; he struggled to remember the name of the old man, were a lot nicer to wastelanders and to their own personnel than this chapter of idiots. He remembered that Arthur Maxson, the elder of the Boston chapter, actually grew up under the Lyons' family rule in D.C., but decided that the rule of the Maxson family name, the name of the original founder of the organization, had to be the precedent that all BoS should follow.

' _I find all of that hate the people, hoard the technology stuff a load of horse shit.'_ Alex shot to his mind.

His thoughts were interrupted when a sudden beeping noise blared throughout the cockpit of the vertibird. He quickly glanced at a blinking light next to the new radio transponder that had been installed. This allowed all vertibirds to communicate with other BoS bases such as the Prydwen or the Cambridge Police Station. He flipped a switch on the control panel next to his arm to play the transmission.

"This is Piper Wright reporting from Sanctuary Hills. An unknown object has crashed down near the settlement and there seems to be a person inside. We need any BoS vertibird, capable of transporting injured to the Castle, to head towards this location and to look for the Brotherhood signal flare. This message is set to repeat." The transmission crackled.

Alex turned to some-what face the Paladin while keeping an eye on the controls. "Hey Danse. Just picked up a transmission from Piper, says something about a falling object and their need for a vertibird. I'm gonna call Cambridge and tell them that we're heading toward the signal."

"Affirmative, Lance Pilot." Danse replied.

* * *

Robert Joseph MacCready  
Northeastern Commonwealth  
Sunrise

"Got you now." MacCready soothed quietly, as he caught the sight of a pack of Radstags in the distance.

Picking up his Sniper Rifle to aim at his intended target, he slowed his breathing and stooped to a low crouch. Peace and calmness surrounded him, nothing seemed to move or make another noise.

 _ **BANG! BANG! BANG!**_

' _What the hell?'_ he thought to himself angrily.

Just then, an Irish-accented voice flooded through the forest, startling Robert. Only it wasn't just a voice, it was…..

Laughter?

"Oi! What ya doin' here Robert." Said a voice that, even MacCready knew, could only belong to one person: Cait the Irish fighter.

"What the hell, man?" Robert complained, deciding that he wasn't in the mood to keep quiet.

"I was just 'bout to ask you the same question." Cait casually replied.

"Well before I was rudely interrupted, I was trying to relieve some stress by doing some hunting. But since you came barging in louder than a Gatling-laser, I can't do much of that anymore."

"Eh, you'll get over it, besides; drinkin' some whisky seems like a better activity than whatever you were doing."

A sudden noise began to rise across the air.

"Hey, shut up a minute will you, I hear something." MacCready shot back.

The sound in question sounded foreign, not a voice but a whole new sound that hasn't been heard much by wastelanders: the sound of something falling and burning at the same time. It was then interrupted by a loud _CRASH!_ not too far from his current position.

"What the hell was that?" Cait wondered aloud.

"Let's go find out." said MacCready, pulling back the bolt on his rifle.

* * *

 **Hey guys, thanks for waiting for me to finish this chapter! I know that it has been a while, but blame you tube for that (I watched a lot of videos). However, don't fret; I'm still alive and typing. The finale for Vault Warriors and Silent Soldiers (my other story at the time) will release hopefully by thanksgiving. Then I can have my full attention on this story.**

 **Anyways, thanks for reading!**

 **RNG OUT!**


	5. Making Plans

**The Institute**

It was a normal day for Joel Holloway. He sat behind a terminal for most of his time down in the Monitoring Room inside the Institute's Synth Retention Bureau. Some said that he had a natural talent of staring at the boring, so it was no surprise to Joel when he received the promotion from watching one terminal to watching twenty of them. However, these weren't normal terminals. These were the cameras the Institute secretly placed around the wasteland to monitor its "citizens" as the previous director, Father, had described the filth that inhabited the world above ground.

He watched as the sun came up into the sky, a routine that didn't improve his day. He pretty much seen it all: the sun rising and setting, storms, murders, robberies; the whole nine yards. He had only been interested in the screens when the Brotherhood of Steel decided to float into town on their blimp.

'The Institute could easily take down that balloon of tin men.' he retorted silently.

Just as he was about to go for his fifth cup of coffee, one of the monitors caught his attention. He walked over to the terminal and stared at its screen. The area was designated as NWCA 2-1, or known simply as the road that borders Sanctuary Hills.

'What's going on here' he questioned to himself.

A lot of commotion seemed to be occurring at the scene. Many wastelanders gathered around a decently large crater that occupied most of the area between the road and the river. Out of the corners of the camera view, he could even spot a few BoS soldiers and a vertibird. Shifting his gaze toward the crater, a gray-colored pillar stuck out of the ground. A single wastelander and a BoS soldier stood in front of the strange object, trying to pull something out of it.

Joel scanned his desk. He pulled a fresh clipboard, with paper, out of a drawer and plucked a pencil out of a cup filled with writing utensils. He scribbled a few notes on the paper, keeping a decently detailed report of what he observed so far while making proper notations. He turned back to the screen to find something that made him stop. The BoS soldier carried a limp body over his shoulder, making a bee line to the nearby vertibird. He tapped a button on the side of the monitor that froze the camera recording. Deciding that he needed to make a proper report to the director herself, he plopped a holotape into the slot beneath the screen. After another button press and several minutes, the tape slithered back out, only to be snatched by Joel and placed in his coat pocket.

The Institute had made decent improvements in technology over the years, after the previous director died of cancer. Being able to freeze camera recordings and placing images of said recordings onto holotapes was barely scratching the surface of such upgrades.

Joel quickly scribbled a few more notes onto his clipboard and hurried out of the Monitoring Room. His section of the Synth Retention Bureau was overcrowded with extra scientists and a few synth prototypes made to assist the scientists in capture of rogue synths. He hurried past them, trying not to make too much eye contact with them. He had too much on his mind to strike up a conversation today.

"Today might be a big day." Joel muttered to himself.

* * *

 **Tasha**  
 **Unknown Location**

Tasha struggled to keep her eyes open. Her head was exploding with pain, as with the rest of her body. She struggled to stay conscious as pain kept washing over her. She couldn't remember much from the drop, only that someone had obviously rescued her.

She heard footsteps coming toward her door.

'Plan A' she mused quietly.

She shut her eyes and relaxed her muscles as the footsteps grew louder. She heard them come toward the bed, but then stop right at the foot.

"I know that you're awake." a female voice proclaimed.

'Dammit' Tasha cursed in her mind.

Opening her eyes and turning toward the owner of the voice, she spotted a young woman, no more than 30, standing in the room. She had a red trench coat, though it was rather battered and torn, along with a press-boy cap on her head. The creepy part was that she had a smile that simply put Tasha at ease. Very few people could do such things. A dog also followed her in, a German Shepherd. It came up to the bed and placed its snout right next to Tasha's hand, sniffing curiously. Tasha chuckled slightly as the dog sniffed.

"I guess Dogmeat likes you then." the female softly replied.

Tasha shifted her gaze back to the woman, "Oh! I forgot to even tell you my name." the female rapidly said. "I'm Piper."

"Nice to meet you." Tasha responded weakly.

"Look, I have to go back and check on some things. If you need anything, just holler. Oh, and your stuff's in that chest over there." Piper said as she pointed to a green chest that clearly had seen better days.

"Ok." said Tasha.

Piper jogged out of the room, Dogmeat following close behind.

Tasha laid her head back onto the pillow and closed her eyes once more.

"She seems nice." she said aloud before she fell asleep once more.

* * *

 **Northeastern Commonwealth**

"Hey, you see anything yet Cait?" Robert McCready asked the brawler crouched next to him.

"No. Just a bunch of crates and boxes. Looks like a few rifles on the ground. Might be interesting to try out." Cait replied smugly.

"Move up."

The two advanced slowly; Cait taking the lead while Robert stayed back with his sniper rifle. As they approached, the smoke from the object increased to the point of nearly blinding the two. McCready could still make out some writing on the side of the object.

"UNSC?" McCready wondered aloud as he came closer. "What does that mean?"

"I dunno. But there are a crapton of guns here." Cait answered with much glee.

"We'll get the guns later. For now, let's see if there's anyone still alive."

"Ugh, fine."

McCready entered the back of the craft, keeping his pace slow and steady. There were a few overturned crates that must've held a the weapons that Cait found earlier. Additionally, there were bodies piled onto the side seats of the bay, all of them dead.

"Great, dead bodies." McCready moaned loudly. "Like that's a sight I haven't seen multiple times already. They have some cool gear though."

He examined an open-faced helmet that fell off of a nearby body. It was mainly black with a couple green stripes down the sides. Cait passed by him while he examined the rest of the gear.

"Oi McCready! Found a pilot!" Cait yelled to the sniper.

McCready dropped the helmet and rushed through a hatchway into a cramped cockpit of some kind. He found Cait crouched low next to what seemed to be the pilot. Unlike the soldiers in the cargo bay, the pilot had a closed helmet that was mainly jet black in color.

McCready pulled a stimpack out of his pocket and jabbed hard into the arm of the pilot.

"Cait, get that helmet off. I'll see if I can get some backup. Keep an eye on the pilot and let me know if she wakes up." McCready commanded before storming back to the cargo bay.

* * *

 **The Castle**

Preston Garvey's day couldn't be any busier. With the patient of unknown origin in the Castle's makeshift clinic and with the Institute on the verge of claiming all of the Commonwealth, Preston didn't think that he could lead the remaining Minutemen to victory, even with the Brotherhood's support.

But he had to try.

"Preston!" he could hear Piper yell.

He turned to the Diamond City reporter, "Yes Piper."

"The patient is awake. But I don't think that she would be recovered for a while." she reported sadly.

"Yo, Garvey!" the radioman yelled from the radio tower.

Preston lifted his head to face the Minuteman, "What is it?"

"McCready radioed in. Said that he found another crash site. Found bodies too, one of them it barely alive."

Preston glanced at Piper with a worried glance before replying, "Well, better get Paladin Danse on it."

He turned back to the radioman, "Where did he find it?"

"Somewhere by Starlight Drive-In." he replied.

"Contact Paladin Danse and tell him about it. We have to tend to the other patient."

"Gotcha. Oh, almost forgot, he also mentioned that there were plenty of unknown weapons at the site. I'll tell Danse about it." the radioman responded.

"Ok." Preston tiredly replied as he turned back to Piper. "Let's go check on the patient."

* * *

 **The Institute**

Joel slowed his pace as he approached the door to the Director's office. He had only been here once, and that was when he was promoted to the monitoring room. He had heard rumors about people not returning from this room, and it gave him nightmares every so often.

As he approached, the synth guard at the door held out his hand to stop Joel from advancing further.

"Halt, what is your purpose for meeting the Director." he said calmly.

"Hello X6-88, I have some intelligence from the monitoring room that might be very valuable to the Director's eyes." Joel replied smoothly.

"What kind of intelligence?"

"Intel that is so valuable, that I would be executed if I didn't present it to her immediately."

X6 paused before replying with his calm voice, "You may enter."

X6 stepped off to the side of the corridor as the Director's door slid silently open to reveal the most luxurious room in all of the Institute. Potted plants bordered the walls and a large balcony opened to a fabulous view of the atrium. However, that wasn't what attracted Joel's attention. What DID keep his head still was the desk that occupied the center of the room. A lone figure sat with her back to Joel, with a small trail of smoke floating away from her face. He had heard rumors about the Director herself too, especially the one about her coming form the Vault that the previous Director came from.

"Director..." Joel began quietly.

"Please, sit." she commanded firmly.

He quickly sat in one of the seats opposite of the woman.

"So." she said as she twirled in her seat, "What kind of intelligence do you have for me?"

Joel silently handed the Director his notes and the holotape with the picture. She took it without haste. Placing the holotape into her personal terminal, she watched silently as the image filled the screen.

"What am I looking at?" she asked.

"A few hours ago, the silver object fell out of the sky next to Sanctuary Hills. It must've been carrying the mysterious figure that I mentioned in my notes and in the pictures. The BoS and the Minutemen recovered the figure just a while ago. I'm not sure where they brought the figure, but my bets are on the Minutemen stronghold: the Castle."

"I don't need bets, I need direct answers Mr. Holloway." she cut in sternly.

"That is all I have at this time, Director, should I keep monitoring the situation?"

"Yes. If anything, these figures look like the fresh material needed for Institute's cause, and the downfall of the BoS and Minutemen."

"Understood." Joel firmly agreed as he stood up and turned for the door.

"Oh, and Joel?"

Joel stopped in his tracks.

"Call me Nisha." the Director called out smoothly.

* * *

 **Hello guys! Thanks for waiting for me to return with the next chapter in Feet First Into Hell. I know it has been a while, but I had been busy with Christmas and finishing my other stories at the time. Also, I just had some surgery done, so that might slow me down some as well. This might be a bit short, but it's something. Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed and I apologize again in advance for the long wait.**

 **RNG OUT!**


	6. The Not So Subtle Aftermath

_[OFFICIAL MISSION LOG]_

 _PROPERTY OF THE OFFICE OF NAVAL INTELLIGENCE SECTION ONE, THE UNSC, AND HIGHCOM_

 _THIS DOCUMENT CONTAINS CLASSIFIED INFORMATION THAT IS ONLY ACCESSIBLE TO PERSONNEL WITH A CLEARANCE LEVEL OF 2 OR HIGHER_

 _MUST NOT BE RELEASED TO PUBLIC VIEW IN ACCORDANCE WITH PROTOCOL #51665116-12A OF SECTION TWO_

 _[BEGIN LOG]_

 _OPERATION DESIGNATION: SLIPKNOT_

 _TARGET: COVENANT CAR-CLASS FRIGATE DESIGNATED "PENANCE OF BETRAYAL"_

 _LOCATION: FORMER UNSC COLONY "ALERIA"_

 _MISSION OBJECTIVE(S):_

 _COVENANT SHIP_

 _INTEL_

 _PERSONNEL INVOLVED:_

 _-CAPTAIN DAVID RECKER_

 _-ODST PILOT LIAN DEVEREAUX_

 _-GUNNERY SERGEANT JACKSON DOUGLAS_

 _-CORPORAL TASHA BORDEAUX_

 _-PRIVATE FIRST CLASS MONTANA SANFORD_

 _-UNSC AI 8625-3 (DESIGNATED AS "CLYDE")_

 _OPERATION STATUS: FAILURE_

 _CAUSE OF FAILURE: COVENANT TARGET ESCAPED BEFORE RESPONSE TEAM COULD PURGE DATA_

 _UNIQUE NOTES:_

 _-LOST CONTACT WITH RESPONSE TEAM AFTER TARGET ESCAPED VIA SLIPSPACE JUMP IN ATMOSPHERE. CAUSE OF DISAPPEARANCE IS UNKNOWN. THE TEAM IS PRESUMED KIA._

 _[END LOG]_

− Mission Report delivered after Operation: SLIPKNOT.

* * *

 **OFFICE ON NAVAL INTELLIGENCE FACILITY [DATA REDACTED]  
** **[DATA REDACTED] LOCAL TIME**

"This is ridiculous!" Captain David Recker complained as he kicked the table with his foot; pain rushed up his leg, but he ignored it. "You expect me to just stand by, while our ground team is just in some sort of trouble!"

Admiral Parangosky silently nodded from the other end of the table, "You know your place, Captain. You of all people should understand that you are in no position to help the situation."

She stiffly stood up. "The ground team is dead, David. Their bodies might not be present, but what are the odds that they survived the aftershock."

The captain sat still while the information sank into his mind. _Dead,_ that's not something he liked to hear.

"Even if you cared about the squad, people die in war. That's just how war is! You should understand that."

This made the Captain stop. He gave the admiral the harshest, coldest stare he had given anyone in his life. The captain then silently crossed the room, straight for the ONI leader, only to stop two inches from her face. Although she was the head of one of the shadiest organizations in the UNSC, or all of humanity for that matter, at least the Captain's height advantage gave a more menacing look.

"What _you_ don't understand, Margaret, is that while yes we are at war, we have lost too many lives to that war." he began coldly. "That squad that _you_ ordered me to send to Aleria, that squad that was part of what's left of humanity's defense against the Covenant, is now gone. Now the Covenant know the location of Earth and might even call for an invasion tomorrow, tonight if we're unlucky enough. We won't survive. Check the reports, Admiral. We're fighting a loosing battle. Sure, we win a space battle here and there. But we end up loosing more ground than we can defend. The Home Fleet would be decimated before we can sound an alarm. We just lost three lives that might have helped in the defense of a planet. Hell, they might have been able to assassinate a prophet! Now, because of this half-assed mission, they won't be able to serve humanity. _You_ of all people should understand that."

He stepped away silently and stormed out of the room. The admiral stood in place, shaking after what she just heard. Sure she was called the most dangerous person in the UNSC by many, but what scared her was the fact that a Captain, one that just watched his own soldiers be killed, had a much sharper tongue than any ONI operative.

"I don't believe I can, Captain..." the admiral quietly muttered when she was alone.

* * *

 **The Castle**

Piper stood in the courtyard of the Minuteman stronghold. People of all types were scurrying everywhere; doctors rushing to the helipad to prep for the new patient that was about to be air-lifted in, Brotherhood soldiers stood guard at all entrances, Minutemen scurried between the radio and various guard posts. Piper herself was somewhat okay with the happenings of the past few hours. She had another interesting report to write in the _Publick Occurrences,_ Diamond City's newspaper, and the Minutemen had advanced soldiers that can most likely end the war with the Institute.

Just as she was getting her mind off of the subject, Piper saw someone standing nervously at the other end of the courtyard; decked out in strange armor and holding a strange weapon. However, the face of the being was easily recognizable as the soldier that was _supposed_ to be in the clinic right now, waiting for her injuries to heal. Piper casually jogged over to the soldier of unknown origin, stopping only a few feet short.

"Hey Piper?" the soldier asked calmly.

"What's up?" Piper chirped.

"What's going on? Why is everyone in such a hurry?"

Piper slowly glanced around the courtyard as the sea of people constantly flowed behind the reporter.

"Word has it that an aircraft of some kind landed somewhere north of here. A couple of friends of mine radioed that there was a survivor found among the debris. We have a vertibird bringing the survivor here for treatment."

"Wait a second. What's a vertibird?" the soldier quickly asked.

 _Oh…. Right._

Piper didn't want to scare the soldier when she first woke up by telling her that she woke up in an apocalyptic wasteland, but she would have to sometime.

"It's like a helicopter." Piper quickly added, deciding that she didn't want to begin a ten-hour lecture about how the world came to be.

"Oh."

The two sat in silence as they waited for the vertibird to arrive.

"So..." Piper began suddenly. "I didn't get your name last time we spoke. What do I call you?"

"Tasha. My name is Tasha." she said.

When the silver glint of the aircraft came into view in the skies above the Castle, the doctors at the helipad prepared themselves for what came out of the passenger hold. The doors slid open to reveal McCready and Cait carrying an unconscious form between them. From Piper's view, the figure looked similar to a synth patroller with pre-war light combat armor. However, Piper caught a sharp inhale from the soldier next to her.

"Devereaux…"

Before Piper could ask what the Tasha was talking about, she sprinted off to the figure being escorted to the makeshift emergency room section of the Castle. Tasha paced frantically along the congregation, trying to ask as many questions as she could before the doctors halted her advance outside the corridor to the emergency room.

Piper ran to the pacing soldier, hoping to find some answers.

"Who is she? Why are you so worried?" she asks.

Tasha stared at the ground as if she didn't want to answer the question.

"Fine, I'll let you worry about your friend. But we will talk about this later."

Piper then took off to find McCready.

* * *

 **The Institute**

Nisha sat calmly at her desk as Joel left her office, silently thinking about the photo that was brought to her moments ago and what it could mean.

"There's gotta be more like them…." she thought aloud.

She then pressed the intercom button and called forth a few scientists from the Robotics section of the Institute. While she waited for them to arrive, she stared at photo collection that sat in one of her desk drawers. The collection only had a few pictures, but they had plenty of meaning to her. This collection held the remnants of her memory of Shaun, her baby boy who had led the Institute while she was in the Vault. Memories began to flash in her mind, memories of the time before the war; memories of Shaun in her arms, in his crib….

….being taken by Kellogg, bearing witness to her husband's murder.

Tears began to form in her eyes as she placed the pictures back into the drawer. She shook these tears from her eyes as footsteps approached the door that lead to her office. Four male scientists in orange coats strolled into the room.

"Gentlemen, please take a seat." Nisha began cooly.

Two of the scientists took seats in the two chairs in front of the desk while the other two stood in place.

"Why did you call us here, Director?" one of the scientists asked.

"I called you all here to give you four a special task."

The four leaned closer with curiosity.

"All I need you to do is to create a squad of coursers specially made to a certain set of parameters. "

"Sounds easy enough." said another scientist.

"Not so fast. I need the squad constructed, programed, and deployed within the day." Nisha replied.

The four gathered in front of her slacked their jaws and gazed at each other with wide eyes for a few moments before regaining their composure.

"Within a day?" one scientist asked.

"Is that even possible?" asked another.

"If you don't screw around, then yes." Nisha answered.

"So, what are the parameters?" a third scientist asked.

Nisha smiled: they were in.

"I will give you a report by the end of the hour. Dismissed."

The scientists nervously stood up and walked out of the office.

Nisha turned to prepare the report.

* * *

 **The Castle**

Piper roamed the Castle's halls looking for McCready, hoping to find him in a good mood to talk.

"McCready!" she called, her voice echoing off the walls.

No response came.

She continued down the corridor into the barracks, only to find the sniper laying on one of the beds taking a nap.

' _Damnit McCready!_ '

Piper slowly made her way to McCready, being careful not to wake up the sleeping sniper. When she got to the bed, she took one last look at McCready…

...before placing both hands on his back and rolling him off the bed.

Piper watched as McCready squirmed like a fish on the floor of the barracks.

"What the hell Piper!" he complained.

"Had to wake you up somehow." Piper casually replied.

McCready got up and dusted himself off.

"What do you want?" McCready asked as he looked at Piper

"We need to talk about what happened today, Robert." Piper answered quietly.

"Ok, why?"

"Why do you think? We just found not one, but TWO soldiers that fell from from the sky! To add to that, they aren't from this time. If you don't believe me, look at their gear. I know for sure that the U.S. government weren't that advanced in weapons in armor. Also, that fish-out-of-water look shows that they don't even know where they are. How do we know if their hostile, or if their highly advanced Institute synths?" Piper asked.

McCready sat quietly for a moment, thinking about Piper's questions, debating her points among himself.

"First off," McCready began, "they aren't Institute goons. While I was at the crash site, the aircraft that was their had no Institute markings written on the side of it. It had something called the 'UNSC' painted on the sides of the hull. Also, the chest plate of the pilot we brought in had the same markings on it."

Piper stopped and remembered back to when she was a the first crash site, how the Tasha had some similar markings on her gear. But instead of the 'UNSC' marking, it had something called 'ODST' written on her uniform.

' _Perhaps their related'_ Piper thought to herself.

McCready continued to explain his points, "To add to that, Piper, if they were Institute goons, they would've shot us by now, or at least sedated us to take us prisoner."

"That didn't stop the Institute from using McDonough as one of their pawns." Piper countered.

"That's true, Piper." McCready agreed, remembering how the Diamond City mayor revealed himself to be a synth working for the Institute. "However, I believe the Institute learned their lesson from that."

"That's a bold statement to be making, Robert." Piper warned.

"Yea, I guess your right about that too." McCready said. "How about we just ask about their origins when they had enough time to recover."

"That was the plan originally, but okay." Piper replied.

The sound of footsteps halted their conversation. Piper and McCready sharply turned to face the door as Curie decided to walk in.

"Madame Piper, Monsieur McCready?" Curie called.

"Yes, Curie? What do you need?" Piper asked the French medic.

"Madame Tasha asks to speak with you." Curie told the reporter.

Piper turned to McCready, "Well, looks like we can get that chance now." she said cheerfully.

The three exited the barracks.

* * *

 **New Pride Bar**  
 **March 14, 2547 (UNSC Military Calendar)**  
 **Paris IV**

Captain David Recker sat alone in one of his favorite bars in the world, pissed at the world. After storming out of the ONI facility, he took his ship straight to Paris IV, and told his crew that they had shore leave. He sat in the bar for what seemed like hours, trying to wash the memory of the failed operation away from his mind.

It wasn't working.

The echoes of the comm chatter still rang in his mind, more so due to the alcohol. The argument with Admiral Parangosky was still fresh in his memory, he could even recite the argument word for word if he wanted to. He wanted to be happy, he wanted to act as if he wasn't about to strangle an ONI operative.

But he couldn't.

He was on his fifth shot of whiskey before a familiar person walked into the bar…..

Admiral Parangosky.

"What the hell are you doing here?" the captain grumbled as she walked up to him.

"I came to apologize." she began.

"I don't need you to apologize. You were right: the squad is dead, I shouldn't care, end of story."

Margaret stopped and stared at him.

"Yes, they are dead." she said truthfully. "But, I was wrong. You should care for them. They were your soldiers, even if they were assigned to you by me and weren't even on the ship for more than a few weeks."

They sat in silence for a few moments, until a bartender came to give David a sixth shot. The ONI admiral ordered a drink for herself as well.

"I petitioned for an expeditionary team to go to the site." she began once more after drinking through half the glass. "If you want to go, give me a call."

She got up and left after that.

Once again, David was left alone in the bar. However, Margaret's words began circulating in his mind.

' _You should care for them'_

' _I was wrong'_

As the words circulated, he thought about the mission that she proposed to him. If he was his normal self, he would've accepted It immediately.

' _I should accept it...'_ he silently thought.

' _What if this was an ONI trap? You have went for those before…..'_ his mind countered.

' _Ah screw it… IF this turns out to be a trap, at least you had a good run.'_ he proposed to his mind before standing up and leaving the bar.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading. Please review and let me know if there is something you have in mind for this story or a new story idea. I would like to apologize in advance if the log at the beginning of the chapter is a bit off in terms of formatting. I had a better layout, but it got wiped out when I moved the document to the Doc Manager (if anyone can find a solution to this problem, then let me know).**

 **As always,**

 **RNG OUT!**


	7. Damn Super Mutants

**UNSC CHARON-CLASS FRIGATE _TWISTED FATE_  
HOLDING HIGH ORBIT ABOVE PARIS IV  
MARCH 15, 2547 (UNSC MILLITARY CALENDAR)  
COMMAND BRIDGE**

' _Live life to the fullest they say, well I guess that phrase wasn't for AI.'_

The AI Clyde stared at the imaginary sea of algorithms and networks that kept the ship's systems running. He had checked each and every system on the ship three-thousand five hundred and sixty seven times since Captain Recker stormed off of the bridge just a day ago. He tracked the Captain's movements through the ship until he reached the hanger bay. He even hacked the Captain's personal tablet and neural interface at least a few hundred times. It didn't help that AIs experienced time two-hundred and fifty-five times slower than normal humans.

Needless to say, he might be the first AI in history to say that he was officially bored.

' _Wait,'_ his conscious countered quickly, _'that might actually been done by that AI that went missing with the Spirit of Fire during the battle of Arcadia…'_

' _Oh well.'_ he finished as he initiated his three-thousand five hundred and sixty eighth systems check.

HULL INTEGRITY-98%

-MINOR HULL BREACH ON DECK 11

SLIPSPACE DRIVE-0% CHARGED

ENGINES-100%

REACTOR 1-100%

REACTOR 2-100%

MAC CAPACITOR-0% CHARGED

ARCHER MISSILE PODS- GREEN

POINT DEFENSE GUNS- GREEN

SENSORS- GREEN

' _Not much different than the other three-thousand times I checked the systems'_

The sound of footsteps clanking against the deck quickly made Clyde shift his attention. He checked the ship's internal sensors to identify the owner of the sounds….

…..the Captain?

' _I thought he wouldn't be back for another few days'_ Clyde wondered in awe.

Clyde materialized his holographic form on the bridge's pedestal as the doors hissed open to reveal Captain Recker waltzing in.

"Captain? I thought you wouldn't be back for a while." the AI began. "Usually you would be gone for a week at least.

"Something made me change my mind on drinking myself into a hole for the fourth time since I took command." he calmly told the AI.

"Well, it's glad that you made it back, sir."

"What's the status of the ship?" Recker asked the AI, hoping to change the subject.

"All ship systems are green, Captain. However, there is a minor hull breach on Deck 11. I'm sure Engineering can get that fixed up, however." Clyde quickly responded.

"Do I _want_ to know how that happened?"

"I don't think so, Captain," the AI replied with much hesitation.

"What's the status of all crew?" Recker asked again.

"Most are still here on the ship, Captain. However, some of the bridge crew had left to go planet-side about an hour or so after you stormed off." the AI reported.

"Can you contact them?"

"I can attempt communication via any personal devices they might have on them. If that doesn't work, then I might be able to send a message to the local police forces for a round-up."

"Excellent. Get them back A.S.A.P."

"May I ask the reason, sir?" the AI questioned.

"We got a new assignment. Check for any transmissions that came in addressed from ONI and to me." the Captain sternly replied.

Clyde went silent as he checked the networks. Nothing seemed to..

...wait, what was that?

He quickly scanned a message that came in for the Captain just a few hours before. It was from ONI, as the AI suspected.

' _For an ONI document, there seems to be a big lack of black ink'_ Clyde thought to himself.

"Found it, sir." the AI chirped as he placed it on the forward view screen. The mission report wasn't too long for anyone to complain, but the lack of ink still had Clyde concerned.

"Captain, permission to speak freely sir?" the AI asked.

"Go ahead."

"Don't you think that there is a big lack of black ink on here?" the AI asked, voicing his concerns.

"No. Part of the reason there isn't ink is because I just so happened to run into 'you-know-who' down at the bar last night." the Captain answered.

"Wait, what!" exclaimed Clyde, slightly horrified at the image of Margaret Parangosky at a bar in the middle of what remained of the UNSC's controlled space.

"I know, I was scared when I saw her there too." the Captain said calmly. "However, this could allow us to help bring back Delta-3! Maybe there could be some extra technology advances for the UNSC also, but that's not the point."

Clyde took a moment to scan the document again, noting very interesting tidbits of info that could begin a coin toss about survival.

' _Wait, what's that'_ Clyde questioned. _' "… use of experimental devices to examine area is permitted." That doesn't sound too great.'_

"Once you're done gazing at the orders, attempt to get the bridge crew back to the ship." the Captain called out as he waltzed out the door as smoothly as he walked in.

' _I don't see why they would send something like this so uncensored over the channels! What if the Covenant intercepted this and went to wreck the planet?'_

After deciding that there wasn't important left to question on the document, Clyde switched to contacting the bridge crew.

* * *

 **The Castle**

Piper, MacCready, and Curie walked smoothly down the corridors of the Castle; trying to get to Tasha as fast as possible.

They found the room guarded by Brotherhood Knights.

"Halt!" one of them commanded.

The group stopped before the guarded door.

"We were requested to be here." Piper sneered. Although she was okay with the BoS and Minutemen teaming up to destroy the Institute, that didn't mean that she exactly _liked_ the BoS soldiers.

"By whose request?" the second one asked.

"The request of the patient, now please step aside." Curie chimed in, hoping to defuse the tensions between the soldiers and Piper.

"We're going to need confirmation about-"

"Hey. What's going on here!" Paladin Danse complained as he stuck his head out of the door. "I though I told you two to let them in!"

"Sorry sir." they replied simultaneously before turning back to Piper. "You may enter."

The group entered without another word to the guards. Piper noticed that they managed to place the pilot along with Tasha in the same room. Although there wasn't much space for two patients in the same room, the medics sure got the job done. Crates and other medical supplies were all shoved into one end of the room, leaving the Tasha and the pilot on the other.

"Sorry for the confusion." Danse apologized as he closed and locked the door to the room.

"So, I guess it's down to business then..." Piper guessed.

"Agreed." replied Danse as he turned to the two patients in their beds. "So, what do you want to know?"

The pilot and soldier gazed at each other with hesitant glares before Tasha spoke up. "I guess you better start from the beginning. I don't feel like having to answer questions knowing where we are and what were fighting."

Piper took a hard glance at the BoS Paladin. "Well, Danse. Do you happen to know anyone who can recap the whole history of the world without being ambushed by the Institute AND making the story clear and understandable?"

The Paladin took a few moments to ponder the subject. Any BoS scribe can make a good guess about what happened during the world before the war. However, there wasn't anyone who can make it sound so simple…..

...unless

"I have an idea, but it might take a while to round up the person I have in mind." Danse said thoughtfully.

"How long?" Tasha quickly asked, not wanting to waste too much time in the unknown.

"Not entirely long; could probably get him here by nightfall." the Paladin answered.

"So, who did you have in mind?" Piper asked with much skepticism.

"There's a Brotherhood intelligence specialist from the West Coast. I have heard that he's here in the Commonwealth. I could contact him over radio frequencies. However, nobody knows his true identity. He goes by the name: Storyteller." He quietly replied, hoping to keep the conversation between the two of them.

"Hold up!" MacCready loudly interrupted. "I know that guy. I seen him in the Capital Wasteland a few years back; really annoying guy; wouldn't shut the hell up for the life of him."

"Do you have a better idea, MacCready?" Piper rounded on the sniper.

All the determination melted from the sniper's face as he desperately attempted to find a comeback. He didn't think that Piper would allow him to give an alternate solution, he just believed that he would just be ignored like every time he provides such an argument.

"Well, now that you mention it-"

"Shut up, that was rhetorical." Piper shot back quickly before turning back to the BoS Paladin. "Call him in, Danse."

* * *

 **GST. JACKSON DOUGLAS  
** **UNKNOWN LOCATION**

Black…

Not exactly the most exciting color in the world, but was often the most recognizable when knocked unconscious by something going at extreme speed.

That wasn't good.

Jackson shook himself awake, hoping to find a different topic to worry about. He scanned his pod, nothing seemed out of place; his weapons were still on the racks and the pod door was still in place. The only thing missing was the glass to the door and the bright lights that shown from the monitors in the pod.

Wait….something else was missing.

He couldn't place it at first, but sure as hell tried. He checked his helmet, which was still in place, his suit wasn't busted; nothing was sticking out of his skin, his joints moved with ease. He winced as he tried moving his legs, however, as the muscles were a little sore from the impact.

' _Man, this silence is killing me.'_ he thought to himself.

He stopped and allowed the realization to hit him harder than the impact itself: his radio was silent.

Although he usually liked the banter from his comrades absent while on the battlefield, he sure as hell wanted it back, bagels and all.

"Hello?" he tried once into the mouthpiece.

Static filled his helmet's speakers.

"Damnit!" he cursed as he tried again, this time with the official form of a distress signal. "This is Gunnery Sargent Jackson Douglas of the Delta-3. Anyone that can hear me, please respond!"

Static reigned supreme over the helmet speakers.

"This is Gunnery Sargent Jackson Douglas of the UNSC." he tried once more. "Any and all UNSC personnel, please respond!"

"I need out." he said to himself before kicking the pod door outward, exposing him to a horrifying sight: bags of human meat, and scorched earth.

He tried to keep himself from vomiting in his helmet. The smell from the meat was insanely strong! He haven't been so disgusted by a smell since his first battle against the Covenant as a marine.

"Jesus Christ! What kind of people…."

He trailed off as a large shadow was cast over him. He looked up to find a giant green bag of muscle standing with a large board in hand.

"Holy. Shit."

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRR!"

The creature then began to wildly swing the board at Jackson..

* * *

" _This is Gunnery Sargent Jackson Douglas of the-*STATIC* Any and all UNSC personnel. Please respond!"_ a nearby radio crackled.

"Isn't that one of the people that we're supposed to capture?" X-871 asked.

"Yes." XL-947 told the courser as he pointed ahead. "It seems that he's in a mutual fight between a camp of super mutants."

The small squad of coursers sat on a nearby cliff edge that overlooked the camp of abominations known as super mutants. Flashes of gunfire from both the creatures and their target erupted in the distance. It was an interesting fight to be honest: a fish-outta-water soldier versus a hungry pack of mutants was something new to them. With the war with the BoS and Minutemen taking most of the Institute's focus, nothing seemed entertaining anymore.

"Our target is winning." X-658, the squad's sniper, reported with no emotion.

X-947 focused back onto the ensuing battle. The soldier held a strange looking rifle in his hands. However, the synth did give credit to the human, that rifle was a firearm to be reckoned with. Each burst of the rifle seemed to pierce the super mutants' skin and even the makeshift armor that they wore. One by one, the mutants fell, each to the wrath of a soldier and his strange rifle.

"All the mutants are dead." the sniper reported again.

X-947 scanned the area again to find the report true; super mutants littered the ground in front of the strange being and his rifle. For some reason, he was shouting at the dead mutants, as if they could still hear him.

"That's right you mutant _freaks_! Go ahead and _die._ You were all weak anyway!"

X-947 turned to the two coursers in his squad, "X-658, switch to a Syringer Rifle and stay out of sight. We're going to need tranquilizer rounds to get him to the Institute. X-871, come with me."

"Yes, sir!" they complied as the sniper switched his preferred plasma sniper rifle for a Syringer Rifle.

* * *

"Stay dead mother fuckers!" Jackson yelled for the sixth time as he kicked a green muscle bag for the seventh time.

He felt good after killing the monsters. In fact, he wanted to kill more. They presented a challenge. Bigger than Covenant Brutes and twice as brutal, these monsters were even smarter than the Brutes, smartly using long range firearms and CQB to their advantages. Seeing the bags of meat also made Jackson question their motives; what sick animal would do such a thing?

The sound of footsteps shook him out of his thoughts. Two figures were approaching him, both had long, black coats and sunglasses. Both carried similar, white weapons. One of them strode with much authority.

Jackson snapped his rifle up to aim at the both of them.

"Who are you?" he snapped.

The two figures stopped in their tracks and had no fear in their faces whatsoever.

"You need to come with us." one of them replied coolly. This one seemed to be the leader, but Jackson couldn't take any chances.

"I'm not going anywhere! Not until you tell me who you are, who you work for, and what this place is! So tell me: Who. Are. You."

Neither of them answered. Instead, the apparent leader turned around and signaled at something.

"What are you-" Jackson began.

Suddenly, a sudden wave of drowsiness washed over the soldier.

' _Must be the adrenaline'_ he thought hopefully.

"Tell me!" Jackson shouted again, this time weaker.

The leader gestured again and the drowsiness grew stronger.

"Tell..." said Jackson wearily as he slumped to the ground.

"Target acquired." Jackson heard the leader say before the darkness overtook him for the second time in a day.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Sorry for not posting in a while, but things were going on.**

 **Anyways**

 **RNG, OUT!**


	8. I Don't Want to Set the World On Fire

**The Institute  
**

Nisha felt great as she cruised down the stark white corridors of the Institute. The squad of coursers had been completed ahead of schedule and were even able to complete their task within a reasonable time table. Nothing made her grin wider than the thought of the Institute making progress in changing the world to her image.

She stopped suddenly when she approached the door to the Synth Retention Bureau. Something felt….

….off.

She couldn't quite figure it out, but she felt as if something were going on within its doors; something that slowed the Institute's plans.

She quickly strode through the gun-metaled doors. Scientists, Gen-1 synths, and coursers alike were rushing with all possible speed to various stations, computer terminals, and offices. This was normal, since the Institute was on the war path, they couldn't waste a second with breaches in security.

Still, that _feeling,_ if she could even call it that, was still stinging at the back of her mind. Something still seemed out of place. Scanning the room once more, she found one room that was particularly lacking in activity: the Monitoring Room.

She took off again, this time being watchful of the various people scramming across the already cramped room. Walking through the door, she found the Monitoring Room in a mess. Papers were scattered as if someone put the room into a blender. Institute ration wrappers could also be found overflowing the garbage can and spilling onto the floor. To make the messy room complete, Joel Holloway was fast asleep at his post.

' _Not again, Holloway'_ Nisha subconsciously groaned.

Nisha slowly approached the chair that Joel slept on; careful not to step on the various piles of garbage and wake him. Once close, with lightning speed, she grabbed the man's shoulders and shook him violently, as if she was reenacting a vertibird crash using Joel as a test dummy. The sleeping figure awoke with a shout, nearly jumping into the ceiling as he got up. He scanned quickly left and right until Nisha began to giggle. It has been a long time since she done such a prank, probably since her college years.

"What the hell was that for!" Joel panicked.

"Relax Joel." Nisha replied once she found a way to stop her laughter. "You fell asleep again and I just couldn't resist."

"Okay, but don't do that again." he uttered.

Nisha warmly smiled. While she knew that being the Director of the Institute's various departments required much discipline and authority, it didn't mean that she couldn't treat her colleagues like family and have fun with it. Since finding the Institute and joining its ranks, she found the people that lived within it to be family.

"Noted." the Director promised before dropping into a serious tone. "Do you have anything for me?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. I do!"

Joel bounded back into his seat and hammered away at the keyboard that controlled the various monitors. After a few minutes of typing, a video recording appeared on the closest one.

"Take a look at this."

The video that began to play was from an airborne RAVEN camera. It was shaky, but Nisha was still able to understand what she was seeing. The RAVEN was flying near the Minutemen stronghold: the Castle. A clear view into the dusty courtyard showed a heavy presence of both Minutemen and Brotherhood soldiers, all of them heavily armed. However, that wasn't the focus of the video.

"Look." Joel advised.

He paused the video and pointed at one end of the courtyard. At first, Nisha couldn't understand what she was looking for. However, she did find Piper, a former friend and companion of hers. She did look different from the last time she met the Diamond City reporter. She had bits and pieces of armor attached to her reporter's jacket. She even had a Pip-Boy strapped to her arm.

"Alright, Joel. I give up." Nisha told the scientist. "I only see Piper in an upgraded reporter's jacket."

"Oh no no! Not the reporter. Look _next_ to the reporter.." Joel urged.

Nisha strained at the still image and found out what Joel was seeing. Standing next to Piper, was another soldier from another world; similar to the one in the Institute's prison cells.

"God damnit." she cursed.

"Oh wait." said Joel, "It gets worse."

Joel advanced the video a few seconds and paused it once more. A vertibird was now in the courtyar; carrying an injured soldier from the looks of it.

' _Wait…. That can't be!'_ raged her mind.

A makeshift stretcher was being wheeled across the dirty courtyard. On that stretcher was yet another soldier like the one in the cell.

"You have got to be KIDDING me!" Nisha exclaimed as she jumped out of the seat.

She wanted to slam someone's skull in. If the enemy had TWO of these extraterrestrial soldiers, combined with the force of the Brotherhood and the confidence of the Minutemen, the Institute was truly at a disadvantage.

She began to pace back and forth in panic; something she hasn't done since she came into the wasteland from Vault 111, something that plagued her life since the bombs dropped, something that stung her when Kellogg shot her husband.

"Are you okay, Director?" Joel asked worryingly.

Nisha couldn't answer that question. Ever since she agreed to join the Institute, she promised herself that she wouldn't crack under pressure. When Shaun died, she held her emotions back until she could find a quiet spot outside of anyone's ears to do so. She couldn't have anyone see her break down again, not now, not while she had everyone in the Institute on the line.

"I'm fine." she replied after regaining her composure.

"What should we do?" wondered Joel.

"We do what we can do." Nisha replied with the roughness of sandpaper. "We work from the shadows and plan a way to take down these rebels."

She then stormed out of the Monitoring Room with absolute fury.

' _So much for my perfect day'_ Nisha mentally stormed.

* * *

Jackson's vision swam. He couldn't find the strength to stand up and free himself from the freezing floor. It was as if someone took a vacuum and sucked all possible strength from his muscles. A quick look found that someone had stripped him of his ODST BDU and replaced it with a simple white t-shirt and pants. A sharp sting was still present in his neck from before he blacked out. Jackson swiftly rubbed his neck to find a tranquil dart.

"Ugh!" he groaned loudly. "Note to self: don't drink so much before a deployment."

"Sargent?" said a voice.

Jackson stopped and analyzed the voice that had just called out to him. Only one voice had that timidness; only _one_ voice knew to only call him out by his rank rather than tease him with his nickname.

"Monty?" Jackson called out.

"Sargent!" the voice called out once more. "Over here!"

Jackson swung his head toward around his cell. To his left, only a wall could be found. To his right, however, a small window was carved in the cell wall.

In that window, was Monty Sanford.

"Monty!" Jackson joyfully cried. "You're alive!"

"You are too, Sargent." he casually replied.

The two UNSC soldiers rushed toward the window that separated them, only for the both of them to nearly break the reinforced glass. At a closer glance, a few holes could be seen along the glass. That's how Jackson could hear Monty in the first place.

"How did you get here? How are you even alive?" Jackson quickly asked, not pausing between each question.

"Hold on, hold the phone!" Monty deadpanned. "Let me explain."

Jackson then sat on the cold floor as Monty began to tell the story.

"Okay, so remember that slipspace rupture?" he began.

"Yea, sure." Jackson reluctantly replied. "How could I forget? And how does that fit in with this?"

"Wait! I'm getting to that part." said Monty. "Whenever I woke up, I was actually already here."

"What do you mean by 'here'?"

"I mean as in _here_. In this cell." Monty exclaimed as if it were to mean something to Jackson.

"Okay, I can get behind that if I knew where _here_ was!" Jackson shot back, slightly annoyed by the lack of answers from his squad mate.

"Apparently, we're in a place called 'The Institute'." Monty answered with a sort of wonder that only can come from a scientist.

Jackson sat and wondered for a few minutes. If this _Institute_ sent the people that captured him, then he needed to escape. Or, at least, have a little chat with their management.

"What's the matter, Sargent?" Monty asked after he noticed Jackson's zoned-out expression. "Having a hard time believing this place, too? Well, when I woke up here, I was in a matter of shock! It was as if I had died and gone to heaven. Even from these cell walls I can catch of glimpse of all the technology that they have here! I hope I ca-"

"Monty." Jackson began with a serious tone. He hated when the nerd went into little talks like this. Mainly because it bugged the hell out of him. He would never stayed focus on the task at hand! Give him a five minute walk, and he'll make it worse than the sex talk with your parents.

"Yea." he answered after he stopped his little lecture.

"We need to get out of here."

A look of horror spread across the nerd's face. "What? Why! Why would you want to leave a place like this! Look at all of the technology that they have here! We could make a _living_ out of this! We won't have to work for the UNSC, or ONI, or do any of that no morals bullshit that they make us do!"

"These people aren't much better, Monty, and you know that." Jackson replied.

"HOW THEN!" he raged. "How do _you_ think that they aren't better than the UNSC or anyone else! Huh, tell me!"

Jackson stopped and thought about his options. He could tell him about how they tranquilized him in order to get him here. That would put some negativity towards this organization. But he did have to admit, if this _Institute_ had all the technology that Monty claimed to have, then they could get home. However, another thought struck his mind: the world that he woke up to. He remembered the scorched earth next to his pod. He remembered the mutant creatures that he fought. He remembered the sky that had been ravaged by whatever apocalypse came through. And these people were hoarding it for themselves.

"These people are hoarders." Jackson began softly. "When I woke up in my pod, I didn't recognize the landscape before me. Monty, there was no way that the world I woke up too is the one that this _Institute_ is trying to help. You should've seen the wreckage. There were cars, torched and burned on the cracked pavement of what remained of the roads. There were creatures that are way stronger than Brutes! Trust me, I fought them. The only help that I received from this dammed _Institute_ was when they decide to come up and tranquilize me without answering any of my questions. Tell me how _this_ is better than ONI, or the UNSC."

When he was finished, Monty looked somewhat crestfallen. Although he didn't look completely defeated, he understand his reasoning to a point.

"What you're describing, Sargent, is the aftermath of an atomic apocalypse." Monty finally responded. "I don't know if I can believe you based on the facts you've given me until I see the outside world, but, I still trust you."

Jackson cracked a small smile at that remark. He knew that Monty, although he loves this place for its technology, he can still understand Jackson's reasoning.

The moment was interrupted by a loud thud on the door to both of the cells. The squad mates quickly looked away from the window and scooted away, in order to fool the guards that they weren't communicating with one another. _;_

"You there." the guard pointed at Jackson. "Come with us."

Jackson stared at the guard. It looked synthetic. Multiple wires were strung about the body and face. What was supposed to be skin barely clung to its face, as if it were almost peeled off by a Brute. However, it did wear a vest of some sort, something to identify what the Institute's motives were. Unfortunately, the sweater barely gave off more than a symbol for the organization: an orange figure with what appeared to be multiple arms and legs, arms and legs spread out.

' _This place definitely loves its science stuff.'_ Jackson thought stiffly.

However, instead of arguing with the guard and punching it square in the mechanical jaw, he decided to come quietly. He wanted to see what else this place of horrors had to offer.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked the guard.

"The Director wishes to have an audience with you." the guard replied with a heavy monotone voice.

"Well then," Jackson briefly chuckled, "show me the way".

* * *

 **Hello guys! How are you doing today? I hope that you had a great day. Anyways, I have an update for you guys today: I am in the process of creating a new story! What does this mean for this story, or anything else for that matter? Well, not much really. I will still make this story as well as the new one. It will be a crossover between Skyrim and Achievement Hunter (more specifically using characters and plot themes from the AH Kings series in Minecraft.) I hope to start publishing the story by the beginning of the summer (around the end of May or beginning of June). If you guys want to assist me with ideas and characters, please let me know. I also hope to be able to pump out new chapters more often. So be on the lookout for that!**

 **Anyways, please rate and review.**

 **RNG, OUT!**


	9. Joining the Club

**UNSC Charon-Class Frigate: Twisted Fate  
** **High Orbit above former UNSC colony: Aleria  
** **March 19, 2547  
** **0800 (Local Time)**

Captain Recker sat calmly in his command chair on the bridge. Everything seemed to be going smoothly for him. ONI provided him with a way to bring back his squad from the abyss, and they provided protection from Covenant attack. Over the past few days, elements of the UNSC fleet that could be spared, though it wasn't much, came to the planet to provide aid. The aid came in the form of two Valiant-Class Super Heavy Cruisers, a pair of Charon Frigates, an old Phoenix-Class Support Cruiser, and even an old Halcyon-Class Cruiser Recker knew that this wasn't much to go by, but he couldn't complain; doing so might revoke him of this opportunity.

"Sir!" Clyde reported as he appeared on a nearby pedestal, "You have an incoming transmission from Admiral Carmichael. It's urgent."

"Take the call to my comm pad, Clyde." said the Captain, who then steadily rose from his chair.

"Yes sir."

Recker began to walk down the busy corridors of the ship as he waited for the Admiral to appear on the pad. Marines, crewmen, and even some scientists were walking around the ship like a normal Sunday stroll. Most were complaining about wanting to get some shore leave, while hearing an occasional comment to "can it". Recker smiled as he walked, remembering his early days in the Navy. He recalled saying similar comments when the days grew long.

' _Although there wasn't any Covenant to worry about'_ his rational mind countered.

As he strolled into the elevator, his comm pad vibrated. Taking a glance at the screen once more, he spotted the words INCOMING TRANSMISSION flashing bright orange on the screen. After pressing a few icons, Admiral Carmichael's face appeared. The Admiral didn't look old for his age of fifty-five. His face showed only faint signs of age. However, his bright green eyes made him look much younger.

"Captain Recker." the Admiral greeted.

"Admiral." the Captain greeted back as he saluted.

"At ease." said Carmichael, at which Recker lowered his arm.

"You know that I don't appreciate you taking ships away from the front lines of the Covenant, Captain. But, in the circumstances that we're in, I will not let that hinder my judgement."

"What did you call me for, sir, besides to tell me something that I already know." Recker retorted.

"I just received intel from Spartan Team Gray. They were sent on a purging mission behind Covenant lines. During the operation, they happened to recover some valuable data."

"What kind of data, sir?" asked Recker, now becoming curious. Spartan teams were a big secret to many in the UNSC, or the UEG for that matter. However, from what little data that he could find from other officers, Spartan Team Gray was originally formed to enforce the Cole Protocol. They were involved in a battle in a rebel hideout known as The Rubble. They managed to fool a Covenant invasion force with nothing more than a few freighters, a rampant AI, and a few asteroids. Recker had to give them props, managing to kill a large force of Covenant without nuking the planet was a major accomplishment on its own.

The elevator dinged and opened to reveal another gun-metal gray corridor. Recker stepped out and casually looked around at the scene laid ahead of him. He happened to be in the _Fate's_ garage. A few M12 Warthogs and Scorpion MBTs were scattered around the garage. Power tools and bits of burned scrap metal were strewn about the floor. The buzzing of a welding torch came from behind one of the Warthogs. Recker decided to remain by the elevator door to avoid all the noise coming from the garage.

"The data recovered," the Admiral continued, "provided some interesting data on a particular artifact brought in from the _Penance of Betrayal_ on the day that your squad went missing. As a matter of fact, they even managed to recover it. I'm sending over a few images of the artifact, including a copy of the data that they recovered."

As he said that, a soft _ding_ came from the device, meaning that the message that came through.

"Take a look at the data and let me know what you think, Captain. You're pretty much the on-site leader of this operation, so whatever you say goes. Carmichael, out."

The screen cut to darkness as the Admiral cut the comm-link.

' _Let me take a look at it in my conference room'_

Recker strode across the busy garage. Mechanics chatted between each other about upcoming repairs or shunning one another on failed maintenance. However, one thread of conversation seemed to come clear as day as he passed one of the Scorpions.

"No, no, no! That goes there, this goes here!" complained one of the mechanics.

"Este argumento es redundante. Se lo que corresponde a donde." complained the other engineer.

The use of Spanish caught Recker completely off guard. However, he was lucky to have been forced to take multi-language courses back in training. He believed that the Spanish mechanic said something along the lines of "I know what I'm doing." and "This is useless."

"You know what, just let me do it. Hand me your wrench!" the first replied angrily.

"Este es un martillo, maldito idiota." the Spanish mechanic replied; telling the first mechanic that he he was holding a hammer, and calling him an idiot.

Recker then stepped up his pace to avoid the result of, what he would assume to be, an upcoming debate.

He finally reached the other end of the garage and into another corridor. It was as busy as the garage, so he slowed his pace to accommodate for the group of people. After a few minutes of walking, he reached the conference room. Clyde was already standing idly on the holo-pedastel.

"Clyde." said the Captain, "Put the images that the Admiral sent me on the table."

"Yes sir." Clyde calmly as the images appeared

Saying that the projection was foreign was a massive understatement. Although the projection made the image a bright blue, it didn't take away from the object. It was shaped like a tuning fork. However, the tips of them were slightly glowing brighter than the rest of the object. It reminded Recker of a Covenant Energy Sword. He scrolled through the data. Apparently the Covenant didn't have a clue about its origins either. There were mentions of something called Forerunners, but he didn't know what to think of it. Nobody had heard the term. He thought that these Forerunners could be the "gods" that they refer to, but he wasn't too sure.

"Where is this object now?" asked Recker.

"The unknown object is stationed on Admiral Carmichael's Valiant-Class Super Heavy Cruiser, the _UNSC Final Word."_ reported Clyde.

"Get me the Admiral."

Clyde disappeared from the pedestal as he placed the call. After a few minutes, the Admiral's face appeared on one of the conference room's screens.

"Did you look at the data?" the Admiral asked right out of the gate.

"Yes, I did." said Recker. "I actually found some interesting details."

He paused as the Admiral gave him an acknowledging nod. "As I was looking through the data, I noticed that the Covenant know as much of the device as we do. The data suggests that it came from something called 'Forerunners'. I guess that they are referring to their 'gods', or whatever we think are gods. They ended up using the _Penance of Betrayal_ as a guinea pig to find the object's use. However, I don't think that they know the results of the experiment, but I have a feeling that they want their artifact back."

"I understand your concern, that's why the UNSC provided the fleet." the Admiral reassured.

"But Admiral, while I appreciate the support, I don't think that it would be enough if the Covenant crashed this expedition. A single cruiser could wreck us." the Captain pointed out.

The Admiral then looked off to the side as he talked to a passing crewman. This made the captain slightly worried.

"Something wrong, Admiral?" asked Recker

When Carmichael turned back to the screen, he had a look of worry on his face.

"I believe so. The people of Aleria are resisting UNSC operations on the planet. Not only that, but we believe that the Covenant are making a move against us. They're coming for the artifact. "

The captain began to pace back and forth in the conference room. He knew that the situation would go south fast. But, as a captain, he didn't show panic.

"We need to work fast. What ground elements are present?" asked Recker..

"We have a few platoons of marines and ODSTs on the ground. While they're holding back the Alerians, a few Army platoons are holding base locations. However, I don't think that we can hold the Alerians back for long. Even with superior tech, we don't exactly have the home field advantage, Captain."

"What about air support?"

"We have total superiority in the air. They're using anti-air guns that predate the Interplanetary War. They can barely hit our Pelicans and Longswords."

"Well then, how the hell are we barely holding them?" asked the Captain impatiently. "If we have total air supremacy, we should be able to bomb enemy emplacements and eliminate their forces without the need for marines or ODSTs."

"Well the thing is, Captain," said the Admiral, "the longswords have very limited amounts of ordnance. We won't be able to play the air supremacy card for long. We have to use marines and ODSTs to hold back enemies while we use bombardment for when we need it most. If we waste all of their ordnance immediately, we won't be able to use them in future operations on the ground or to repel the incoming Covenant force. We have to plan this with upmost care."

The captain stopped pacing and looked at the Admiral. "What marine elements are on the ships?"

"The Charon-Class frigates, including yours, make up at least a battalion. Our Phoenix has a few companies. Our Valiant Cruisers have a few companies as well. So, all in all, we have, at most, two battalions of marines. As for ODSTs, we have a few squads per ship, which make up a few platoons, so that is a very limited option.

"However, I do have an alternate solution to the problem."

"What is it Carmichael?" asked the Captain.

"We do have a Spartan fireteam on board of my Cruiser. We can use them to infiltrate the epicenter and gather intel while protecting the scientists stationed there." suggested the Admiral.

The Captain thought for a minute. Using Spartans for this op did seem a bit too much. He felt that they should try using lesser options before trying the most extreme measures. After explaining his opinions, Carmichael nodded, acknowledging his comments. The two talked a bid more before signing off the comm-link.

* * *

 **The Castle**

"But _that_ is a story for another day." finished the Storyteller.

Tasha Bordeaux and Lian Devereaux sat dumbfounded at the information that was explained to them in the past three hours. A society stuck in the 1950s? Nuclear war across the world? The wasteland? Even for an ODST, this seemed a bit too extreme for her. Piper must've seen it in their eyes as she tried to reassure them that they were still in reality.

"That doesn't sound like our history." said Lian slowly.

The wastelanders in the room tensed up just a bit. A flurry of confused emotions played across their features, with the exception of the Storyteller, who had his helmet on.

"What do you mean?" asked Paladin Danse.

Lian and Tasha turned and looked at each other. They both had the same realization: this was going to be a culture shock to them.

"You might want to sit down for this." said Tasha.

One by one, MacCready, Piper, Curie, and various Minutemen and Brotherhood guards found various crates, beds, and chairs to sit on. Paladin Danse and the Storyteller remained standing due to their bulky power armor. After they were settled, Devereaux and Tasha explained the history behind the UNSC, the UEG, and the wars that they fought. They decided to leave out the SPARTAN programs as they didn't know much about them anyway. As they explained, each individual wastelander's jaw began to sag toward the floor. By the time they were finished, the wastelanders were shocked beyond measure, just as the ODST predicted. Then the flurry of questions began.

"Wait, you achieved spaceflight?"

"You colonized other worlds?"

"You fight aliens?"

"Whoa! Let's all settle down here!" exclaimed Devereaux, hoping to return the situation to normal. "One question at a time."

They spent the next half of an hour answering questions. Most of them were simple and easy to answer. After answering a majority of their questions, Paladin Danse spoke again, "We need to get our minds back on the problem at hand. If there are more of you, then that means that the Institute might have their filthy hands on them. If you help us defeat the Institute, we will make sure that your friends get out safely."

"Anything to help them." Tasha quickly answered.

Danse and Piper looked at each other before Danse bellowed, "Welcome to the Brotherhood."

* * *

 **The Institute**

Nisha slammed her drawer a bit harder than she meant to and the desk shook violently. The picture of She shot her hand out to catch the picture of Shaun that almost fell over. Raising the picture back toward her desk, she stopped when she saw the bright green eyes of her former son. Staring at those eyes brought back memories of the Vault, the wasteland, and even the time before the war. Although she received those memories many times, in nightmares or other ways, it still broke her down. Her hand began to wobble and her knees grew weak. A tear began to form in her eyes.

 _KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK_

She changed her view to the door of her office. "Come in." she called out as she placed the photo back onto her desk. The door slid smoothly open to reveal the two prisoners that she sent for. Each of them had a different vibe. One of them had a scientific feel to him. The glasses and semi-complete labcoat over his armor proved that. On the other hand, the other was completely a soldier. His armor was rugged enough to show his experience in fighting.

"Welcome gentlemen." Nisha greeted as they walked in. "Please, take a seat."

They sat silently and waited for her to begin.

"I can tell that you want to know why you're here-"

"You bet your goddam ass we are!" the soldier interrupted.

"Please Jackson, let the woman speak!" the scientist pleaded. He turned back to her and motioned for her to continue.

"Anyways, as I was saying, I can provide you with the answers to your questions." she resumed. "But first, both of you must do something for me."

The two glanced nervously at each other, having a silent conversation. The scientist and soldier, who happened to be named Jackson, seemed to agree with one another, but were unsure about going with her plan. The two turned back to her and assured their agreement.

"Excellent." said the Director as she held her hands together. With these two on the side of the Institute, the Brotherhood stood no chance.

"What I need you to do..."she began as she reached under her desk, "is to eliminate a rebel group called the Brotherhood of Steel." She plopped a few photos onto the table. Each one of them provided information such as their symbols, armor configurations, and weapons. The two stared at the photos with great interest.

Jackson asked, "Do you know where we can find their leader?"

Nisha chuckled at Jackson's eagerness to take out the Brotherhood. "Yes, we do. However, we can't just bum-rush their main fortifications on the first day. We have to divert their attention to other positions first. Then, we can reduce their numbers so much that they won't be able to keep a tight security around their fortress."

"So where do we begin?" asked the scientist.

"You can begin by meeting the leader of our military down in the briefing room. Don't worry, I will have someone lead you there." The two looked nervously at themselves once more, expressing that feeling of uncertainty as they did before. Nisha began to think that they wouldn't take the job, but Jackson spoke again to reassure the job.

"We're in. But, under two conditions." Jackson spat.

"Okay, what might those be?" Nisha playfully asked.

"First, I want you and your 'Institute' to help us find our way home. As you can tell we don't exactly belong here. Plus, this would allow you to explore new types of technology. Surely you of all people wouldn't want to miss out on that. Secondly, we need your help to find our friends. We came in a bigger squad of four. That includes the two of us and our missing soldier and pilot. They are our friends. If you don't accept these conditions, then I will either torture you until you comply, or, simply, I will kill you."

' _That sounds a bit harsh...'_ thought Nisha. She thought a little bit about the conditions. The first one did sound great. She was always hyped to find new types of technology, whatever gave them an advantage against everyone else in the wasteland. The second condition, however, was a tricky one to comply with. She already knew the location of their missing squad mate and pilot, but she couldn't tell them that yet. If she told them that they were in Brotherhood custody, them that would lead him to bum-rush their fortress in order to accomplish his agenda. She couldn't have that.

"The terms are agreeable." she said finally. She held her hand across the desk for the two to shake. The scientist immediately shook it, eager to join her ranks. Jackson, however, was hesitant like before, but he eventually gave in and shook her hand.

"Welcome to the Institute." congratulated the Director.

* * *

 **Thank you guys for reading and enjoying my story. I will be releasing my new story soon (if you don't know what I'm talking about, check the previous chapter at the bottom). I do need a bit of help though. I can't seem to find a great name for a female Imperial character. If you want to help, send me a PM with the name you would like for me to choose. Bonus points if you give me attributes about the character such as weapon choice, personality, etc.**

 **Anyways,**

 **RNG OUT!**


	10. Update 9-10-17

**Hello.**

 **Its me, RNG.**

 **I just want to start this out by saying that this is NOT the end of Feet First Into Hell! I know that I haven't updated the story since June, but I do have my reasons.**

 **1\. I started a new story, "Kings Glory". I wanted to get it on its feet by publishing the first few chapters of that story. (Btw, y'all should check it out. Its pretty interesting.)**

 **2\. Writers Block. One of the main reasons why I started "Kings Glory". I couldn't come up with any new ideas for Feet First so I ran with another story for a while until I could think of something. Plus, I wanted to see if any reviews could help me steer my story in the right direction. For example, a user by the name of "Arafell" kinda gave me a criticism that, while I appreciate, made me stop and think. Along with a Guest review telling me to kill off Jackson, I had to give my next chapter some thought.**

 **So, I once again apologize for the long wait for a new chapter in the events of Delta-3. However, I do plan on continuing the story. If you guys have any ideas or criticisms that you want to share with me, please leave a review of PM; I really do appreciate your opinions, even if there aren't too many of them. Once I publish the next chapter for "Kings Glory" I will get back to Feet First, I haven't forgotten those who enjoyed this story.**

 **Side note, when I do publish the next chapter for this story, I will delete this update.**

 **RNG, OUT!**


	11. Final Transmission

Hello one and all. I know that it has been a long time since my last update. However, I do have some bad news.

As of this update, this story will officially be canceled.

Before you get mad, let me explain myself. Ever since I last updated, I honestly forgot about writing the next chapter since I knew that it would be hard to come up with a new idea for a chapter. This thought has discouraged me from writing more. This is mostly my fault since I should've done more pre-planning. Also, with college coming around the corner, I have to start planning for that.

 **This doesn't mean that I will not write stories anymore!** In fact, I hope to give this another go someday, when I have more time and thought to put into a story.

In the meantime, if you want to continue the story, please let me know. It would be a big joy to me to see something I started be improved on by others who enjoy it.

I apologize for the long wait, but I knew that the time has come to put the wait to an end.

RNG, out.


End file.
